Page 11 of The Americana Playbook

I frantically pull my phone from my back pocket. My hands shake more than they ever have from pregame nerves.

Where are you?

I push send while keeping my head on a swivel. But everyone who finds me is no one I’m looking for.

Captain America!

Rhodes of the Rebels!

Fitzy!

For fuck’s sake.

With a bit of the shakes, I bring the short glass to my lips, downing half of it in one gulp.

555-459-3137

Can I steal you for a minute?

This isn’t funny. Who is this?

555-459-3137

Live a little, Fitzy.

Go out the exit by the bathrooms and hang right, I’ll meet you.

“What are you doing?” Josh slings a heavy arm around me. “Why are you drinkingalone?”

I leave my glass half empty. “I’m out.”

Josh lifts his wrist, as if he expects to find a watch when he never wears one. “It’s only like?—”

“Two in the damn morning.” I pull out my wallet and stick a fifty-dollar bill beneath the glass. “See you in the AM.”

“I thought you said it was the morning.”

“Laterin the morning, you idiot.”

I wind my way through the crowd in search of the bathrooms. I still have the note clutched in my hand, and under the strobing light, I try to take a better look at the handwriting. Maybe I’m drunk out of my mind. I must be. This could be some sick joke, even though Parker isn’t someone I share about. But then I remember Nick and the fact that, when I was indeed drunk out of my mind years ago, I did tell him everything.Andshow him the tattoo.

If he’s behind this, I’m going to kick his ass.

I duck into the men’s room, pushing open a stall and pulling my pants partly down. The fact that I’m trying to compare the writing on a cocktail napkin against a copy of Parker’s handwriting from when we were in high school is indeed absolutely ridiculous. But I swear, theRs look the same. TheLs could go either way.

“Fuck,” I mumble before pushing open the stall and heading back into the hallway. I head away from the music, seeing the door with the Exit sign.

And a security guard standing next to it.

“You good, champ? Front door is that way. Just an alley back here.”

I’m fucking sweating. “Can I just go get some air?”

“You need some help, man?”

“No, it’s…”

I’m about to sayIt’s nothing, never mind, but instead, I decide I’ll just turn around and stop making a complete ass of myself and pretend this never happened. But the moment I give the guy my back, I’ve redirected my heart forward in the direction it’s always pointed.

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